Free For The Day
by FMAvatard
Summary: Sometimes things just need to be talked out. Oneshot. T for kissing, mentions of 'relations.'


"...you can do this. Of course you can."

England spoke quietly to himself, holding a sparkling red bag while standing in front of a door. America's door, to be precise. The date was July fourth, and...well, as much as the Brit found this particular day to be depressing (at least to him), it was still his partner's birthday. To not come and 'celebrate' would not only be rude, but also heartbreaking for his former colony.

...former colony. He needed to stop thinking that way. The boy had spent more than two centuries as an independent nation. England was simply here to give a gift, sing a song, and then spend time with America as if it were a normal day. One of their few true vacation days.

His finger went to the doorbell, and almost simultaneously the door opened. There he was; representation of the land of the free and home of the brave. Tall, beaming, blonde, proud...and in a party hat. England couldn't help but smile.

"You're late! Come on in!"

America grabbed England's wrist and dragged him inside. The nation barely caught the door-handle on his way in, steadying with America's pace.

"Sorry, spot of weather. You know how they were with mobiles on planes these days."

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry. You're here now! That's what counts!"

America led England though the living room, which was brimming with red, white, and blue balloons. Streamers every which way, an excellent looking smorgasbord of various junk foods. In the center was a neon blue cake with tall red sticks poking from the top. The Brit smiled again; America didn't know much about subtlety, but he made up for it all in enthusiasm. And from the sounds of the chattering outside, it seemed as if England was the last to arrive for all this.

"I'm assuming Canada helped you set everything up?"

"Yep! He owed me; do you know how many leaf balloons I had to blow up the other day? Canada Day...it's nice, but my holiday's got some more pizazz to it's name; _Independence Day_. Like...like a badass movie. And there _is _a badass movie called that!"

A small pain spiked through England, and he nodded.

"That's the one with Bill Pullman, yes?"

"And Will Smith!"

The two nations sat down on the sofa. England placed his gift on the floor, looking back up to see that America's expression had changed. Excitement melted into concern.

"...yes?"

"How are you?"

The ancient nation gauged the question before answering with a half-smirk.

"America, it's only been a few months since the last Summit. I missed you, but-"

"I'm not stupid. I mean it. Are you okay?"

America grasped England's hand gently, speaking softly.

"...w-why wouldn't I be?"

England felt himself tense up immediately. Since when had America excelled in reading people? Was it that obvious of the Brit's face? This _did _happen every year, but...

"Come on. Your other guests are probably wondering where their host went off to."

He forced a smile, standing up stiffly and offering his partner a hand. To his surprise, he was pulled right back down into a kiss. England's eyes were wide open for only a moment before they slid shut, making himself more comfortable in the embrace.

See? He knew he could do it. This year was different, and it would be good for the rest of their lives. No more pain, no more hurt, no more dreading this date. Just happiness and love and-

There was a gurgle as England pulled back immediately, coughing as a light dribble of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His hand automatically went for his back pocket, snatching up his good handkerchief (which had seen quite a bit of blood in it's years) and dabbing away the red quickly. His eyes flickered up to America's, seeing that the blue eyes he loved endlessly were filled with worry. This wasn't the first time he'd seen this, not by a longshot. The nation knew, and understood, why his partner grew sick every year. Every July, like clockwork.

"...I don't like hurting you, England."

"What? No, no, this-"

He cleared his throat, replacing the handkerchief and taking America's hands.

"This isn't you at all, it's...I...you know..."

England stopped, sighing. He brought his partner's hands to his lips, choosing to explain quietly.

"...I...alright, well first, I love you. You know that, nothing changes that. I love you, darling. But...no, not but. Ah...'_and_,'there we go, 'and.' I love you, and because of that...today just brings up old...you know, you know all this, why don't we just go out-"

"No."

America kept his hold on England tight.

"Please talk to me. Let's...we can call that my birthday wish."

He moved closer to kiss his partner's forehead, smiling sadly.

"All I want is you to be happy to be here."

England shook is head vigorously.

"No, don't waste your wish on me, I'm happy to be here, really! I'm always happy to be with you, no matter where or when. Getting any chance I can to visit is wonderful. I...it's difficult to come here, though, and see...I mean, for me, anyhow...you just know how this all went just a bit...differently, in my mind. We don't exactly celebrate back home..."

Crushing. Dark. Despairing. He grew quiet.

"I know it's been two-hundred years, I know things have changed, and...I just can't-"

He was silenced by another kiss. England rolled his eyes; did America want him to talk or not? The blondes pulled apart, with America threading his fingers through the Brit's hair.

"I don't expect you to. Remember when you used to go back home, and I had all that time to do whatever? I never liked being alone...I missed you, England. And I still do. Every time a summit or something's announced, I just...I can't wait to see you, and talk to you, and just _be _with you."

"...is all that true?"

"Duh!"

America pulled England into a hug, laughing. England put his arms around America slowly, listening to the next thing the boy had to say.

"England...if coming here makes you sick, then I don't want you to. I _do _want you to, because I want to see you, but not at your expense. I love you, England. Nothing changes that...weirdo sickness or otherwise. Okay?"

The Brit sat in mild shock for a moment before nodding again, smiling.

"You know you're stupid, right? I like seeing you, too. And I'll be damed if I turn down any opportunity to. So don't go talking like I ever have a choice. I love you too much, unfortunately."

He sighed, twirling America's cowlick with a playful pout.

"Really, it's beginning to become a problem."

The American laughed, hugging England again.

"Okay, okay. I love you, too."

. . .

"Something wrong?"

"May I ask you one thing, darling?"

"Uh-huh."

. . .

"Ah...I know today's sort of like a birthday to you, but...do...do you ever-"

"Yeah...sometimes. Mostly when I see you."

America nodded. He did think about the war; not positively, nor negatively. He had had decent reasons to rebel, to divide himself from England. He'd become strong, the most powerful nation in the world. There were days back then when he missed England, when he questioned his choice...he treasured the days he managed to spend with him now. A grand total through an entire year would be about two weeks. Just two weeks. Maybe more, usually less.

"I don't regret what I did, but I'm not dancing around, either. I miss you, but...you know why I had to do what I did. Right?"

"I understand."

There was a moment of silence. The two kissed shared another kiss, feeling a bit lighter than before. England certainly knew he felt better, if only by a small bit. America held him close, murmuring.

"...how about we go out?"

"...what?"

A particularly loud laugh came from outside, reminding them that they weren't alone.

"But...but what about your-?"

"They'll be fine, so long as they don't find the booze."

America pulled England up off the couch, kissing him again. This was one was close, passionate, and truly heartfelt. The Brit was breathless.

"Whaddya say?"

. . .

The nations were out of the house within seconds, the older of which speaking nonsense about how dinner should be his treat, and how the younger was being rather irresponsible just leaving his own party.

"You put in all that effort getting ready, and what do you do? You leave."

"It's my party, don't worry. What could happen? They're all older than me, they can handle themselves!"

. . .

What happened, indeed. The alcohol was found, the house was was trashed, and nearly everyone's gifts ended up destroyed or missing. The nations left in a happy, drunken stupor. Balloons popped, streamers down, and the place in shambles. All but one gift was broken; a red bag hidden by the sofa. And in that bag...well, no one knew what was in it. It had yet to be opened.

Perhaps after America and England came home and cleaned the mess, or perhaps after they made love, or perhaps in the morning, on July fifth...perhaps it would be opened. But for now, the two were having a quiet dinner, laughing and enjoying their lives.

England certainly was enjoying his life. In fact, he'd say that his life was pretty damn good. Even on this day.


End file.
